Huffing & Puffing

The gale rumbles off reluctantly, huffing and puffing. Every so often it turns mischievously on its heel and unleashes a parting squall. Stargazer runs out of the Secret Water under main only, reaches up to the Naze under jib and double reefed main, then settles for full sail to beat down the Wallet. We play hide and seek with the breeze off Frinton-On-Sea. Then it leaps out of hiding. We roar into the Blackwater, on the edge of control, in a force six - main flattened and backstay cranked on hard.

The sun breaks through as we round up under the lee of West Mersea’s familiar clapperboard packing shed, on its midstream island.

A pretty, Kim Holman designed, Twister bobs at her mooring. Stargazer secures to the vacant buoy astern, in good company.

Gulls, on the packing shed island, duet with curlews in the saltings. An aromatic curry warms on the stove.

Carried Away

Gone are the cloudless skies and summer zephyrs of our arrival.

For three days a gale has roared and raged beneath low frowning clouds. Gusts, of forty knots, send the dinghy flying, airborne on its painter, like a kite.

Overnight Stargazer’s ensign and staff are carried away, unheard and unseen, by wind and tide. Any sound they made, as they disappeared overboard, lost amid the tear of the wind and the grind of the anchor chain.

I lash our, well travelled, old ensign to the backstay and bring the dinghy into the cockpit.

The ensign, I note, actually flies more cleanly and gives a clearer view aft, than when it was on a flagstaff.

Order is restored. I go below to catch up on news. UK ports are receiving visiting boats from July 4th. Better still, the UK’s quarantine for European visitors is tipped to be dropped from the 6th. France and the Netherlands are likely to reciprocate. Our cruise proper is on!

I begin to passage plan. The tides work for a departure, southbound, mid to end of next week. It is too late in the season for a foray north to the Baltic this year. There is plenty of time, though, to explore the historic Normandy ports en route to our favourite Breton anchorages and harbours. 

The forecasts vary in their opinions on when our gale will end. Some say that it will continue unabated, for a fourth day, tomorrow. Others that it will blow out during the course of tomorrow morning. In time for us to catch the tide for the Blackwater.

Seals Come Calling

A golden head appears, the sun glinting off it. The seal swims stealthily along the grassy bank of Kirby Creek.

On the prowl. She is all but submerged. Only her eyes and nostrils showing. 

Leaving barely a ripple, she moves silently through the still water. Circling Stargazer, as she teaches her pup to hunt.

 Her freckle faced pup surfaces, looks Stargazer over. . . 

. . . turns to find Mum gone - and swims off hurriedly after her.

Stargazer lies into the ebb tide, which drains the creek beneath her. Mudflats reach out towards her, growing ever more extensive to either side.

A bespattered oystercatcher breaks from his foraging and feasting and makes his way down to the, fast receding, water’s edge.

A wash in the creek quickly restores his orange gimlet bill and red gaitered legs to their full splendour.

Satisfied, the oystercatcher marches off purposefully, to resume his search for a meal.

Secret Water

Stargazer lies off a shoreline alive with wildflowers, in Kirby Creek. The sound of birdsong fills the air, accompanied by the silver tongued chime of the tide running down her side.

We have sailed to Arthur Ransome's 'Secret Water.' Hamford Water, and the myriad creeks running into it, on the more prosaic official charts.

Those same charts, both electronic and paper, are in disagreement about depths. We trust in the withies to guide us in safely. Proceed under jib only, to slow our speed. We are on a rising tide. If we touch, we know we'll be able to refloat.

Our old friend Ironsides is anchored out in the main arm of Hamford Water. Stargazer sails past. Off to explore the winding (and more sheltered) Kirby Creek. Right to its head, where there is a small deep water pool off a jetty. The pool turns out to be peppered with moorings, mostly unoccupied. But who knows when their owners may return? Or what condition the ground chains are in.

We back track a little, to to an unnamed tributary, which feeds the main creek. Stargazer anchors at its mouth. We should have good shelter here. Later, the wind is forecast to strengthen from the south or southwest.

Black headed gulls, with their insistent short 'peeping' calls, throng the banks.

A family of canoeists paddle by. "Beautiful day!" They land in the tributary creek, to enjoy a Swallows and Amazons picnic, on Horsey Island.

I launch the dinghy and row off to explore Skipper's Island. Letting the still flooding tide carry me up. 

I wander the wild shoreline, enjoying the sensation of the sun on my back, a cooling breeze on my face, and warm wet marsh grass squelching oozily between my toes. A skylark trills overhead, to make the day perfect.

Learning Curve 2

Stargazer lies tucked in tight under the sea wall. Our new view for today. We need a still deck to get to grips with the genoa winches. Fortunately the breeze is whisper light. The sea wall stills any motion on the water. Perfect for today's purpose. An auspicious start to the day. 

It helps disperse the feeling of dread, which I harbour, at the thought of dismantling Stargazer's winches. There is the potential for parts to fall overboard, never to be seen again, unless I am very careful. This ominous feeling is heightened by the name of the boat, which was towering over Richard and I yesterday, while he talked me through what I needed to do today.

I begin, tentatively, to dismantle the slipping winch - taking notes and photos as I go. I place the parts in a washing up bowl to prevent them rolling away, or spreading grease around the cockpit . I had, on a fortunate whim, practiced man overboard drill on the bowl, as it bobbed by semi submerged, a couple of days ago. A second auspicious sign.

The drum is off. Next to remove the bearings, gears, pawls and springs. Two of the latter are stiff and unmoving. I prize them out with a blade. We have our culprits for the winch slipping under load.

My lurid green bowl fills with parts. Only the bare carcass of the winch is left on Stargazer's cockpit coaming. The teak of her cockpit is covered over with taped down bin bags and cardboard . I'm soaking the grease, oil and grime off the winch components using diesel and a paintbrush. Messy but effective. I begin the rebuild - wiping each part dry, lubricating, re assembling or replacing as necessary.

My mind is easier now. The second winch is a quicker job. No need for pauses for head scratching and coffee drinking. My thoughts turn to our recent ports of call. The contrasts and similarities, within sixty miles of coast. The magnificently wild and open landscape of The Swale.

Where we fell in with the historic Thames Barge Ironsides. . .

. . . for an un-coreographed cruise in company to Brightlingsea.

The historic. . .

. . . and homely intimacy of  the wooded shores of Pin Mill.

Both genoa winches are rebuilt, at last. Rotating with a satisfying ratcheting sound - and holding under load . Stargazer is ready to be on her way on tomorrow's tide.

Learning Curve 1

I bring Stargazer alongside, to meet Richard. He owns Evolution Rigging. Like all the riggers on the Orwell he’s working flat out. Next available booking - early August. It’s the combined effect of today’s announcements about the relaxation of lockdown and the fine summer weather. Same story whoever I rang, to ask about servicing Stargazer’s slipping genoa winch. 

 

Richard, though, wants to help us out of our predicament. He meets me on the pontoon bearing a Cardboard box in which he has assembled a DIY winch service kit.

It comes complete with an exploded parts diagram. “There simple, this is an easy winch to work on. Can’t go wrong.”

Seeing the alarmed expression on my face, Richard partially dismantles one winch as I take notes. Then demonstrates how the springs locate in the pawls. Five of each per winch. “They only fit one way. Can’t go wrong, really.”

He patiently shows me how to compress each spring, to slide the pawl fully home. A damaged, or broken, spring is the likely culprit for our slipping winch. “With the stripping, cleaning (just use some diesel), lubrication and rebuilding - each winch should take an hour.” Stargazer has four winches. My project for tomorrow is to service them.

A Room with a View

Sunlight streams down through Stargazer’s open companionway, announcing that she’s swung to her anchor. The tide has turned. I climb on deck. 

And drink in the view. The wind is back in the south today. Fair, inviting and ideal for a sail north to the Orwell.

Stargazer fast reaches up The Wallet, on the starboard gybe - the genoa cross winched. I phone ahead, to Fox’s boatyard, to arrange attention for our incapacitated port winch.

The yard team are out on sea trials for the morning....which turns into the day.  Who can blame them on a perfect sailing day like this? I leave a message and an e mail. Stargazer thunders in under the saluting Felixstowe cranes. Eighteen knots of breeze drive her on up the Orwell.

We run in over the last of the ebb  - we’ve made good time, arrived before the flood has begun. Wooded banks rise around us. The waters still. The coughing call of a pheasant resonates in the silence. Followed by the bubbling song of a curlew. And the gossiping cries of a pair of orange billed oyster catchers, foraging on the foreshore.  Stargazer rounds up, drops sail and anchors beneath the woods, at Pin Mill. A new view to savour.

Solstice Sojourn

Cat’s paws, of ripples, pad across the still waters of The Swale. The forecast southerly breeze is filling in.

Today is the longest day of the year - the Summer Solstice. Stargazer’s solar array harvests the sustaining energy for her batteries. Astern, I watch as Ironsides’ bluff bows swing slowly head to wind - announcing the turn of the tide.

It is Stargazer’s signal to make sail. She slips silently from her mooring, gathering way with a delighted chuckle from her building bow wave. Out across the London River, where the lumbering leviathans of seaborne commerce ply their trade.

Stargazer broad reaches north. Loping along at an easy six knots. I try to coax a recalcitrant port  genoa winch ratchet to engage - unsuccessfully. And settle for cross winching the port sheet to the starboard winch, for now.

We have made good time. There should be over a metre of under keel clearance at The Swin. Unnoticed, until we harden up to shoot the gut way, the wind has built. Stargazer creams through, at seven knots, on her ear.

It’s a dead run up the Colne. I furl the jib. Stargazer sweeps along the channel under main alone. We round up on into Pyefleet Creek, under the lee of Mersea Island, to drop anchor.

As I stow Stargazer’s sails, Ironsides rounds Stone Point, under full sail, and follows suit. Stargazer and Ironsides lie companionably side by side in the evening sun. Relaxing after their midsummer solstice sojourn.